Blissful Immaturity
by Sins of Angels
Summary: Just a short little one shot about a bit of silliness between my favourite couple: Lily Evans and James Potter. Set in the very begining of their seventh year.


Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter, or Lily Evans or James Potter. In fact, I don't own the floor I'm sitting on to type this or the TV that stemmed this little bit of silliness. I beg of you, if you sue me for everything I have, I can only give a broken mp3 player and 67 ½ cents. Is that really worth it?

Sins-of-Angels: Hello to one and all. I'm not dead, I'm just…not writing as much. Writer's block is a real pain. So here I present a very short little story written in the spirit of watching "Love Actually". I'm afraid that I very much doubt I'll be writing a lot for a while, and I'm terribly sorry to all those whose reviews have been lost in the depths of my email folder (now at 267 emails and counting), I honestly should get back to you within the next three years or so. I'm also sorry that I haven't updated anything in ages. I'm working on it. Kind of. Writer's block is a pain. So, yeah, please read and review, it doesn't take long...and it makes me happy, and motivates me to write more (not kidding). Just let me know if you liked/hated it and why (or not why, doesn't matter).

* * *

James Potter, age seventeen and recently appointed Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, strode casually through the barrier to platform 9 ¾, ready to get back on the train for his seventh and final year at school. However, the first thing he saw was not the train. In fact, the very first thing he saw was a mess of red hair flying in an inexplicable circular motion across the platform in front of him. The hair belonged to a girl, her robes billowing around her as she twirled down the platform in laughter.

That girl was herself a sight to behold. Her sudden bursts of joy illuminated and gave new life to her startling green eyes. Said girl was the object of affection and fantasy for most of Hogwarts's male population, as well as some of the female. Said girl was, coincidentally, the object of maddening desire for James Potter.

Lily Evans was doing something absolutely absurd, and laughing through it all, completely oblivious to the mile of drool that could be traced back to every guy who has seen her, and is consequently still watching her, a dazed expression on their faces. Lily Evans was that red haired girl waltzing through the platform by herself, spinning without rhythm, destination, and certainly without shame. She would have gone on spinning uninterrupted, had it not been the fact that James Potter was hardly one to stare and drool. Instead, young James Potter straightened his glasses, lightly ruffled his hair, and carefully cut in, jumping at the first chance he had to take Lily Evans by her hands and join her in her declaration of blissful immaturity.

However, as his hands touched hers, and as her emerald eyes saw his hazel ones, the spinning abruptly stopped. The blushing, in turn, began, as Lily Evans's cheeks tried to catch up to her hair in redness.

"Potter," she stammered, caught off guard, her hands still in his, and his smiling face gazing down at her. "What…"

And then Lily Evans remembered the fact that James Potter was the most conceited little twit she has ever come across, and no amount of incredibly attractive handsomeness and irresistible suave he possessed could make up for it. She quickly dislodged her hands, attempted to convince her body to not blush (and failed miserably) and frowned, which was ever so convincing with the pick tint to her cheeks still there.

"Oh, I'm sorry," James said, still grinning. "Was I interrupting?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Lily replied, then stuck out her right hand as if to indicate someone. "I think you owe Bernard an apology. You stepped on his shoe."

James chuckled amiably, and bowed to the indicated batch of air, smiling. "So terribly sorry, Bernie, old boy. I saw a chance and I had to pounce, you understand." James looked over at Lily. "Do you think he forgives me?"

Lily leaned towards the empty air, and nodded as if listening to something. She then straightened up. "He thinks you're an arrogant twit, one that doesn't deserve his forgiveness or time. Bernard detests being called "Bernie", and he doesn't think you were sincere."

"Ah. Well, I shall have to prove it to him. Please let him know I'll replace the shoe."

"Bernard doesn't need a new shoe, least of all one bought by you. And, if you will excuse us, Bernard has to come help me with my luggage."

James bowed yet again. "Of course."

Lily marched away, now quite red in the face and her hair a fair bit of a mess, with Bernard at her side, and James Potter grinning behind her. This was truly a moment that would live in infamy where she was concerned, and labeled as "The Reason Why You Don't Dance In Public…Number 73".


End file.
